


Take Care

by AGirlNamedEd



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Three Year Gap, because ROW ROW FIGHT THE POWER and etc, but for now please enjoy some good old-fashioned femslash, but isn't a three year gap fic, first chapter can be taken as its own separate oneshot, takes place during the, will devolve into OT4 madness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGirlNamedEd/pseuds/AGirlNamedEd
Summary: Lunch came to Bulma to hide from the cops. Neither of them expected to fall in love with each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHA SO UM. There's not nearly enough femslash in this fandom (or any fandom really) and certainly not enough Bulma/Lunch. So I tried to fix that.
> 
> This first chapter can be taken as its own story, but the following chapters will devolve into OT4 madness, like the tags say. (Who's in the OT4? That's for me to know and you to find out.) So if you're just looking for some Bulma/Lunch shenanigans, then by all means read only this first chapter; I won't be offended. :D
> 
> By the by, if you'd like to support my writing, [check out my Tumblr](http://agirlnameded.tumblr.com/post/150211237023/eds-help-a-gal-out-writing-commissions) to find out how! Thank you!

Bulma leaned back in her chair and raised her eyebrows at Lunch over the rim of her coffee cup. “So,” she said casually. “Want to explain what’s going on?”

Lunch hadn’t touched her coffee. She sat with her eyes on her lap, hands twisting in the collar of her borrowed bathrobe, lips pursed. “I—” she started, then stopped. She frowned, shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”

“Lunch.” Bulma set her mug down and reached over to rub Lunch’s arm comfortingly. “I know it’s hard, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need help with.”

“I know that.” Lunch looked up, flushed with embarrassment. “I just don’t think _I_ can explain what’s going on. I mean…technically, I wasn’t really there.”

Bulma shook her head. “All I know is that last night, Blondie showed up here, somehow climbed up to my bedroom window, and pounded on it until I let her in, which scared the crap out of me by the way.”

Lunch buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry! I—if it had been me, I would never have—”

“Lunch, it’s _fine_.” Bulma’s thumb rubbed soothing circles into Lunch’s arm. “I’m more worried about you right now. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Lunch nodded, though she didn’t lift her face from her hands. “I’m just embarrassed. I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”

“You’re not trouble, Lunch.”

“Yes I am!” Lunch finally looked at Bulma for the first time all morning, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I’m always causing trouble everywhere I go—with the police, with Tenshinhan, now with you! Don’t sugar-coat anything for me, Bulma; I know I’m trouble b-but I—” She sniffled and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Hey.” Bulma stood and wrapped her arms around Lunch’s shoulders. “It’s okay. You can stay with me for as long as you want, okay? I promise it’s not a problem.” Lunch hiccupped and wiped her face on the sleeves of her bathrobe. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know,” Bulma told her, smoothing her shiny black hair. “Such a sweetheart, always worrying about everyone else before yourself…Blondie hasn’t changed much either, but, well, that’s Blondie.”

That got a watery laugh out of her. “I guess. You’re a little different from when we were younger, though.” She craned her neck to look up at Bulma. “Back when we first met, you still would’ve helped me, but you would’ve spent ten minutes complaining about how much it inconvenienced you first.”

Bulma swatted her shoulder. “Rude! But fair.”

“Bulma, dear!” Her mother poked her head into the kitchen. “You wouldn’t believe the cutest thing Trunks just—” She stopped when she realised Lunch was there. “Oh! Hello!”

Bulma hastily untangled herself from Lunch. It wasn’t like they had anything to hide or be ashamed of, but she still felt embarrassed at her mother seeing her like that with Lunch. Especially since she still seemed to think Bulma and Vegeta were going to “finally get together for real” or something. “Mom, you remember Lunch, right?”

“Oh, yes!” She beamed at Lunch, and Lunch smiled prettily back. “I didn’t know you’d come to visit!”

Lunch glanced up at Bulma, who shrugged. She certainly wasn’t going to tell her that Lunch had come to Capsule Corp in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm because she was on the run from the cops again. If Lunch wanted anyone to know, she could tell them herself. “I, ah, I just got here,” Lunch said, standing. She wrapped her robe a little tighter around herself. “My clothes were wet so Bulma was kind enough to loan me this.”

Bulma was sort of regretting her charity. She’d just thrown clothes at Lunch the night before and told her to take a bath to warm up, not really thinking about what she was giving her. So now Lunch was in her kitchen wearing a very short silk bathrobe and nothing else. It was white with pink cherry blossoms fluttering across it and it showed off Lunch’s long, toned legs that Bulma was _not_ staring at. “So Mom,” she said loudly, too loudly, change the subject Bulma, “what about Trunks?”

And her mother was all too happy to start chattering away about the cutest thing her grandbaby had ever done in the last hour. Lunch smiled and Bulma bit her lip.

Lunch had always been this pretty, right?

~~~

“Trunks is a cute baby,” Lunch said.

Bulma flipped her hair and grinned back at her. “Of course he is. Look at his mother!”

Lunch laughed. “I guess congratulations are in order! When did you and Yamcha finally tie the knot?”

Bulma’s smile faltered. “W-well, he, um, he’s not exactly Yamcha’s.”

“Oh.” Lunch felt her heart stop for a moment. “Bulma, I’m sorry—”

“No, no, don’t be.” Bulma waved her off and ushered her into the laundry room in the same movement. “I—we’ve had messier breakups, honestly. We’ve talked things out and—it was for the best, really.”

Lunch remembered how much Bulma and Yamcha used to fight and shook her head. “I’m still sorry. It’s not easy, thinking you could have something with someone and then—it just doesn’t work out, no matter how much you want it to.”

Bulma looked at her, and there was something about her piercing blue eyes that told Lunch that Bulma knew she wasn’t just talking about her and Yamcha. But mercifully, she didn’t say anything about Tenshinhan. Instead, she just shrugged and opened the drier. “I’m okay. Honestly, I am. I think Yamcha took it harder than I did, but I haven’t seen him for a couple of months so I can’t be sure.”

“You should talk to him.” Bulma kept pulling Lunch’s clothes out of the drier until Lunch put a hand on her shoulder. “Bulma, you really should. Even if you can’t get back together with him—he’s one of your oldest friends. You wouldn’t like it if you got in a fight with Goku and couldn’t talk to him anymore, right? What’s the difference here?”

“The difference,” Bulma said, kicking the drier shut, “is that I never wanted to _marry_ Goku.” She shoved Lunch’s clothes at her. “Get dressed. We can go into town later and get you something else to wear.”

“Bulma—” But Bulma was gone, stomping down the hall in a huff. Lunch sighed and closed the laundry room door for a little privacy while she changed. She shouldn’t have pushed. It was obviously still a sore wound, no matter what Bulma said. Once she was dressed, she’d go find her and apologise and—

“Wa-choo!”

Lunch looked around. Where the hell was she? The last thing she remembered was waking up in the spare room Bulma had shown her to and rolling out of bed. She was naked, although she’d obviously just taken off the tiny robe thing Bulma had given her. Her regular clothes were on a pile in the ground in front of her, and they didn’t look wet like they had the night before. Bulma must have dried them.

She threw them on and poked her head out the door. Nope, none of this looked familiar. She was probably still at Capsule Corp, but even when she actually did see Bulma on the regular she still never figured out the damn layout of the place. Lunch picked a direction at random, fixed the red ribbon in her blonde hair, and set off.

~~~

“And who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

The man scowled up at her. “Out of my way.”

“Sweet Kami, your hair’s even stupider than Goku’s.” Lunch folded her arms. She wouldn’t be intimidated by this angry little troll. “Let me guess, you’re whatever little toy Bulma’s picked up to make Yamcha jealous again, huh?”

She swore she could see steam leaking from his ears. “You have three seconds to get out of my—”

“Vegeta, knock it off.” Bulma came trotting up from behind Lunch. “Lunch, this is Vegeta. Vegeta, this is my friend Lunch. If you hurt her, I will _personally_ get Goku to come kick your ass while your son watches and knows just what a loser his dad is. Get lost.”

Vegeta threw his hands in the air. “I didn’t even _do_ anything this time.” He stormed past them in a huff.

Lunch shook her head, but she wasn’t subtle about the way her eyes trailed over his body. “Woof. Love to see _that_ walk away. So who’s that?”

“My personal headache and baby daddy.” Bulma rubbed her forehead. “He’s gonna be the death of me, and honestly at this point I’m not sure if it’s because he’s such a _troll_ or if he’ll actually straight-up murder me.”

“Um, okay, hold on.” Lunch held up a finger. “Your _baby daddy_? Bulms, are—are you _pregnant_?”

“No, no.” Bulma shook her head. “I keep forgetting who I’ve told stuff to. Come on. I’m going to introduce you to Trunks, then we’re going to get you some more clothes to wear.”

Lunch looked down at what she was wearing. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

Bulma winked and started down the hall away from Vegeta, gesturing over her shoulder for Lunch to follow her. “You can’t wear those forever, and you can’t just keep borrowing my clothes. Besides, we haven’t gone shopping together in years. Come on, Lunch, it’ll be fun!”

Lunch stuck her hands in her pockets and followed Bulma. Well, she wasn’t wrong. And Lunch didn’t need the excuse to spend time with Bulma. She’d always liked her, even back when they were both overbearing twenty-somethings.

Besides, she wouldn’t have come to Bulma for help if she didn’t like her.

~~~

Bulma was making faces at Trunks as she fed him his mushed carrots. Lunch propped her chin on her hand and watched with a fond smile. “You know, sweet cheeks, you’re a pretty good mom.”

“Damn right.” Bulma wiped Trunks’s face with his bib.

“I take it back. Good moms don’t swear in front of their kids.”

Bulma stuck her tongue out at her. “Screw you. He’s just a baby. He doesn’t even know he’s alive yet.”

Lunch laughed, then shook her head. “I still can’t believe you had a kid, though. Didn’t think you were the type.”

“Honestly? Neither did I.” Bulma stuck another spoonful of carrots in Trunks’s mouth. “But when I found out I was pregnant…I don’t know. I just couldn’t get rid of him. I mean, considering who his father is, I _definitely_ couldn’t give him up for adoption. No one else would be able to handle a kid like this.” She sighed. “My parents said they’d support me no matter what, and Dad even said that if I had an abortion and anyone tried to shame me for it he’d remind everyone that one of his PhD’s is in medicine, but…I just couldn’t. I don’t really know why. I just couldn’t get rid of him.”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Lunch rubbed her nose. “What you do—and who you do—is your business, you know?”

Bulma gave her a strange look and Lunch looked away. “Thanks,” Bulma said. “That means a lot.”

“No problem.” Bulma went back to feeding Trunks and Lunch went back to watching her, an odd feeling settling in her gut.

~~~

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Bulma looked up from her workbench. Lunch stood in the doorway of Bulma’s workshop, a steaming mug in each hand. “I asked the cooks and they said you hadn’t eaten yet,” Lunch said, and even though she had nothing to be sorry for she sounded apologetic. “So I made soup.”

“Hey, thanks!” Bulma grinned at her and gestured with her head towards a table. “I’ll be done this in a minute; just put it down over there somewhere.” She turned back to her work. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long.

“No.”

Bulma paused and looked over her shoulder again. Lunch hadn’t moved. “Pardon?”

Her face was set and stubborn. “You need to eat something substantial _right now_. When was the last time you ate a proper meal?”

“Uh, yesterday.”

Lunch fixed her with a hard stare. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

Bulma tried to wave her off. “Lunch, you’re sweet to worry, but I’m fine. I’ve had protein shakes and coffee; I had a worse diet in university.”

“Bulma.” Lunch still hadn’t moved. “You need to take a break, sit down, and eat. You won’t do it if someone doesn’t make you, so I’m here to make you. I’m not moving until you come over here and drink your soup.”

Reluctantly, Bulma turned to her, leaning her back against her workbench. “Who told you?”

Lunch faltered. “Your father. He said you’re just like him, you’re always working yourself until you’re exhausted and then you sleep for three days straight.” Bulma sighed and ran a hand through her hair, immediately regretting it when she remembered her hands were covered in grease. “Bulma, I don’t want you to collapse,” Lunch pleaded. “Please, just ten minutes.”

“Alright, alright.” Bulma yanked off her gloves and tossed them on the bench before stomping over to a small planning table. She shoved the mishmash of papers into a messy pile to make room, then plopped onto one of the stools. “Way to emotionally blackmail your host,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

“It’s not like that.” Lunch sat across from her and handed her one of the mugs. “I’m worried about you. This isn’t healthy.”

“But it’s what I love,” Bulma protested. “I love getting into different machines and seeing what makes them tick. Did I ever tell you about how I reverse-engineered an alien communication device so it displayed in Earth languages in one night?”

Lunch gave a bemused smile over the rim of her mug. “You may have.”

“That’s the kind of stuff I love. I just get so absorbed in it! You have no idea how much time I spend in here. I mean, technically I’m supposed to be running the company and stuff too, but Dad’s still doing most of that, so I figure I’ve got a few years left to just tinker away in here.”

“You made a machine to track the radiation from magical, otherworldly artefacts.” Lunch shook her head. “I’d hardly call that tinkering.”

Bulma grinned. “See? You get it.”

Lunch shook her head. “But you’ve got to remember to take care of yourself. I might not always be here to remember for you, you know.”

Bulma’s smile faltered. “Oh. Right.” Somehow, the idea of Lunch not always being around was…disturbing. Sure, they’d spent years apart, but now that they were back in each other’s lives again, she didn’t like the idea of not seeing Lunch every day. She blew on her soup and didn’t make eye contact.

“I, ah, I like your jumpsuit,” Lunch said.

“What, my coveralls?” Bulma looked down at herself. They were just basic, dark green coveralls, covered in oil and grease stains and definitely the least glamorous clothes she owned. Nothing about them really stood out aside from the Capsule Corp logo emblazoned on one shoulder. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“I’ve never seen them before. I mean, I guess I knew you had something like them, but I guess you don’t really wear them much outside of the workshop.” She reached across the table and fingered a clean part of one of the sleeves. “I like the colour. It brings out your eyes.”

Bulma blushed and didn’t admit that that was exactly why she’d chosen the green ones. “Th-thanks,” she said instead, hiding her blush behind her mug.

~~~

“You’re sure you don’t want to come?”

Lunch shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t think you should be going.”

Bulma scoffed and adjusted her grip on Trunks. “Oh, please. I have to go to these fights. Every time I don’t show up, someone dies.” Lunch’s head snapped up to look at her with wide eyes. “It’s okay, they’re fine,” Bulma assured her. “They’re all back now. But like I said, I have to go. I’m like their gorgeous good luck charm.” She winked.

Lunch looked at the ground. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Hey, look at me.” Bulma reached out and brushed some of Lunch’s hair away from her face. The black hair was like silk between her fingers as she cupped Lunch’s face. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Lunch bit her lip, but nodded. “Okay. I trust you. B-but if you don’t come back, I’ll—I’ll sneeze, and then Blondie will come for you!”

Bulma laughed. “Alright, then, it’s a deal.”

They stood there smiling like idiots at each other for a long moment before Bulma moved away and set about strapping Trunks into his baby seat. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you when it’s over,” she told Lunch, hurrying to get out of there. Because suddenly she’d wanted to kiss Lunch, and it was weird and confusing and she didn’t have time for an identity crisis right now.

Maybe later, when this was all sorted out, but not now. The guys needed her.

~~~

Everything was going wrong.

According to the TV, the world only had seven days to live. All Lunch wanted to do was curl up on the sofa and cry. Everyone else was running around, trying to get the last little bit of training in that they could. Lunch wasn’t sure it would help. According to Krillin, even Goku had said he wasn’t sure he could stop this monster.

She stayed on her spot on the couch and watched Yamcha and Bulma in the corner, talking in hushed tones. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but at least it looked like they weren’t fighting. That was good, she guessed. If they were all going to die in a week anyway, may as well try to do it with no regrets.

Did she have any regrets? Well, _she_ didn’t. Blondie would probably regret never getting to spend some of the money she’d made robbing a bank. But Black couldn’t think of anything she really wanted to do in what were probably her last days. She’d been so happy here at Capsule Corp with Bulma for the last few months. They’d go shopping together, and just spend time talking, and Lunch had even spent a little time taking care of Trunks. It had been some of the happiest times of Lunch’s life, even if more of it than she’d like was spent apologising for things Blondie had said or done. But Bulma had always laughed off her apologies and told her not to worry, that both Black and Blondie were her friends and she’d always be there for them. She’d made Lunch feel so warm and safe.

All Lunch wanted was for a little more of that. More time with Bulma all to herself. Maybe some more hugs. And definitely another night like the one where they watched terrible late-night TV and ate ice cream until they fell asleep on the couch and woke up all tangled up in each other. She just—she wanted—

“Lunch?”

Lunch snapped out of her thoughts and looked up to see Bulma crouched in front of her. Yamcha was nowhere to be seen; it was just the two of them alone in the room. Bulma reached out and took one of Lunch’s hands. “Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

She tried to smile, but it shook on her face. “I-I—I’m—”

“Oh, Lunch.” Bulma sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be okay. They’ll figure something out and stop Cell, I know they will.”

Lunch leaned her head into Bulma’s shoulder, welcomed how Bulma ran her fingers through her hair. It was so comforting, being with Bulma. “How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“I believe in them. They’ve gotten us out of impossible scrapes before, and I know they can pull it off again.” Bulma laughed, the movement jostling Lunch a little. “I know that sounds super cheesy, but I guess being a mom has brought out the worst in me.”

“Don’t say that.” Lunch nudged her. “You’re perfect.”

She half expected Bulma to toss out a self-aggrandizing comment, something along the lines of “well of course, are you just noticing now?” But instead she swallowed, and her hand rubbed through Lunch’s hair a little softer. “Th-thanks.”

Lunch looked up at Bulma’s face. There was a light dusting of pink across it, and it was so sweet Lunch couldn’t quite stop herself from pressing a kiss to her cheek.

As soon as she realised what she’d done, she sat bolt upright and flung herself away from Bulma. “I-I’m so sorry!” she blurted. “I don’t know what came over me! I-I—it won’t happen again, I promise!”

Bulma had a hand covering her face where Lunch had kissed her. Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted. Lunch wanted to lean forward and cover those lips with her own, and _where were these thoughts coming from all of a sudden_?! Bulma reached out to cup Lunch’s face, a smile slowly working its way across her own. Lunch gulped. This—this wasn’t going where she thought it was going. Was it?

Apparently yes, yes it was, because Bulma leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to Lunch’s. It was only for a moment, but it was enough. Lunch’s heart slammed against her ribcage when Bulma pulled back and smiled at her again. She—she’d just kissed Bulma. And more than that, Bulma had kissed her _back_. What was she supposed to do? She wanted to laugh and cry and hug Bulma and run away all at the same time. Her mouth dropped open and she tried to speak, but her voice cracked and she snapped her mouth closed again.

“Do you like me, Lunch?” Bulma asked when it became clear that Lunch wasn’t going to be able to say anything on her own.

“L-like you?” Lunch repeated. Her mind was a mess of confusing thoughts and memories and she couldn’t untangle any of them. Did she like Bulma? Sure, she liked girls, but not Bulma. No, she’d been in love with Tenshinhan for years! And even if she did like Bulma, which she didn’t, it didn’t matter, because Bulma didn’t like girls.

Except then why had they kissed each other?

“See, the thing is,” Bulma continued after a long silence on Lunch’s end, “I didn’t think I liked girls until you came to live with me. But after—after everything we did together—all the time we spent with each other—I think I fell in love with you.”

Lunch swallowed.

“And I didn’t know how you felt, but then Blondie, well, one time we got _really_ drunk, and she said she wanted to kiss me.”

There had been times when Lunch was jealous of her other self, but never anything like this. It was overwhelming and rotten and she felt nauseous from it. “S-so did you?” she asked. “Kiss, I mean.”

“Nah.” Bulma shrugged. “Like I said, we were drunk. But I can’t stop thinking about it, and I realised back when I was going to meet the guys to see them fight the androids that I wanted to kiss you too—both of you.” She took Lunch’s hands in her own. “Lunch, I love you, and I’m not just saying that because the world might be ending and I don’t want to be alone. If that was all I wanted, I could always just sleep with Vegeta or Yamcha again. But I want to be with _you_. If you’ll let me.”

“I…” Lunch bit her lip. Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted to be with Bulma forever, didn’t she? Even if forever was only for the next week—Lunch would take what she could get. “Yes,” she whispered, “okay. Bulma, I—I love you t-too—achoo!”

She was sitting on the couch in Bulma’s living room with Bulma next to her, almost uncomfortably close. She looked…annoyed, for some reason. “What’s up?” Lunch asked. “You’re making that face you do when you’re trying to be mad but you’re really just kinda sad.”

Bulma shook her head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She stood up. “I’m gonna go check on Trunks.”

“Hey, hold up.” Lunch caught Bulma’s wrist before she could get too far. “Seriously, you look upset. You can tell me.” She flashed a lopsided grin. “Can’t you trust this face?”

Almost as if against her will, Bulma’s face twisted into a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Nah, I’m just me.” Lunch yanked and Bulma yelped as she tumbled into her lap. “Now come on, tell me your troubles and I’ll make them go away.”

Bulm’as gaze flicked down to Lunch’s lips, and Lunch suddenly remembered what she’d said when they got drunk a couple months ago. Her eyes widened. “I-is this about the kissing thing? Because if that made you uncomfortable we can just forget about it. You know. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well,” Bulma said, bringing her hand to tangle in Lunch’s blonde hair, “yes and no.” And with that she pressed a kiss to Lunch’s lips.

It only took her a moment to figure out what was going on, and as Bulma pulled back Lunch lunged forward. She captured Bulma’s lips again, a hand on her cheek to keep her there. She needn’t have bothered, because Bulma wrapped her arms around Lunch’s neck and kissed her back sweetly and beautifully, and maybe it wasn’t perfect for their first time but there’d be time, now, time to learn each other’s movements and what they each liked.

When they moved away, flushed and pleased with each other, Bulma’s eyes were half-lidded and her lipstick was smudged. “I love you,” she said. “Both of you.”

Lunch slid her hand down to Bulma’s shoulder. “I love you too.” Something suddenly clicked in her head and her eyes widened. “Wait, is that why you were upset? Did you tell Black that you loved us and she rejected you?”

“What? No!” Bulma shook her head. “I told her I loved you and she’d just admitted that she loved me too and—well, I just didn’t think you’d _both_ like me, that’s all.”

“Hey.” Lunch pulled her forward for another kiss, this one shorter, softer, gentler. “You’re an amazing, beautiful, talented woman, but you always get worked up over the weirdest stuff. I love you, Bulma, and so does Black. We don’t share much, but whenever one of us falls in love, so does the other.”

Bulma kissed her again, taking Lunch’s hand and placing it under her shirt. “Want to show me how much?” she murmured against her lips.

Lunch’s hand slipped under Bulma’s bra. “You bet, sweet cheeks.”

~~~

They managed to make it to Bulma’s room still fully clothed, but as soon as the door closed behind them Bulma was on Lunch again, fumbling with the buttons on her pressed white shirt. Lunch ran her hands through Bulma’s hair as she kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her neck, her lips. Bulma could feel herself getting warmer and a thrill ran through her at the thought of what they were about to do. She’d never had sex with another woman before, although she’d been thinking about it more and more lately after she’d realised her feelings for Lunch. She pushed Lunch’s shirt off her shoulders and let it drop to the ground behind her.

Lunch’s hands found the hem of Bulma’s shirt and pulled, and then they were both shirtless, pressed together, hands roaming. Bulma noticed that Lunch was wearing one of the bras they’d picked out together on that first shopping trip—a plain, not quite skin tone one, quite the contrast to Bulma’s preferred black lace. She dipped her fingers up under Lunch’s bra, smiling when Lunch gave a pleased hum. Lunch’s hands moved from where they’d been caressing Bulma’s sides to fumble her bra off and toss it unceremoniously with her shirt. She grabbed Bulma’s hand and guided it back to her breast before pulling her back into another kiss.

It was a little like touching herself, only _better_ , because it was Lunch. Bulma squeezed and massaged Lunch and ran her thumb over her nipple in circles, and every time Lunch gasped with pleasure she could feel a little thrill of arousal run straight to her groin. Lunch’s hand ran down her back and over her ass to grab her thigh and pull it up, then again on the other side, and suddenly Bulma was lifted into the air and she threw her arms around Lunch’s neck again. Oh, how long had it been since she’d been treated like this? With Yamcha it had usually been quick and rough makeup sex, and Vegeta—well, he was Vegeta. It had been such a long time since someone treated her with the sweetness that Lunch gave her, and it only served to arouse her even more.

Bulma’s hips jerked forward into Lunch’s. It was weird, Lunch not having a dick to grind against, but she’d manage. Her lips kissed and sucked at Lunch’s neck, and Lunch’s hands squeezed her ass through her pants. “Lunch,” Bulma murmured, bringing a hand down to grope at one of her breasts, “bed. Now.”

Lunch didn’t have to be told twice. Soon Bulma was on her back, head nestled in her pillows as Lunch kissed and nuzzled her breasts. This was nice, so nice. She hadn’t been able to just lie back and pampered in a while. An all too familiar heat was building between her legs, and she sighed in appreciation when Lunch finally— _finally_ —slipped her hands under Bulma’s bra to tease at her. “You like that, huh?” Lunch chuckled. Bulma nodded with a pleased hum, then gasped when Lunch unclasped her bra with a quick motion and buried her face between her breasts. “Trust me, sweetheart, I like it here too.”

“You’re a tease,” Bulma told her, but she brought a hand to run over her hair. The other slid down over Lunch’s back and fingered the waistband of her skirt.

“Hey, maybe I like a little puff-puff every now and then. So sue me.”

Bulma grimaced. “Gross! Why would you bring that up now of all times?”

Lunch raised her head and grinned at her, eyes half closed and teasing. “Because you’ll forgive me. Especially if I do this.”

Bulma’s eyes widened as Lunch rubbed her fingers over her pants. “O-okay, do that again with my pants _off_ and all is forgiven.”

“Absolutely,” Lunch said, immediately sitting up and fiddling with Bulma’s belt.

Bulma watched her move, watched the way her hair stuck to her sweaty skin, watched her breasts jiggle freely as she worked Bulma’s belt buckle. She sat up to help Lunch get her pants off, planting a kiss between her breasts as she did. Lunch laughed, but it was choked off when Bulma slid her hand up her leg and under her skirt, pressing against her over her panties. They were wet through already. “Oh,” Lunch said, her voice small, “that’s j-just not _fair_.”

Bulma smirked. “Since when have either of us played fair?” She gently nudged the fabric aside and drew lazy, teasing circles around Lunch’s entrance. Lunch whined and tried to grind down on her, but Bulma moved away. “Hey, I can be a tease, too. Come on, Lunch. Touch me again.”

Lunch mumbled something and rolled her hips again, but one hand moved into Bulma’s lap and rubbed at her through her underwear. “Like this?” she asked cheekily.

“You know what I want.” But Bulma couldn’t help the flush that came over her face, the way her hips twitched forward into Lunch’s touch, and she knew Lunch had noticed from the breathy chuckle in her ear. “Lunch.” Bulma circled her again, pulled away leaving her wanting. “ _Touch me_.”

Lunch latched onto Bulma’s neck with a light bite and her hand slipped into the front of her underwear. Bulma shifted to spread her legs wide and Lunch clearly knew what she was doing, because her fingers teased and pressed and slid in all the right places, all the right ways, and Bulma gave a soft cry when one slipped inside her. She fumbled her hands out from Lunch’s skirt and yanked her panties down to her knees, kicking them off the bed, and then her hands were right back where they’d been as if they’d never left. Oh, she felt—she was so hot, and every move Lunch made only served to stroke the fire inside her. She buried her face in Lunch’s chest and panted, and she knew she looked a mess but she didn’t _care_ , she hadn’t felt this good in such a long time and she wanted—

Bulma cried out when Lunch pressed another finger into her, the other hand pushing at her thigh to spread her legs wider. “How’m I doing?” Lunch murmured. Bulma couldn’t answer; she tried, but all that came out was Lunch’s name, garbled and messy. “Still got it,” she heard Lunch say proudly, and she hooked her fingers inside Bulma. “God, I wish you could see you right now.” Lunch’s free hand stroked Bulma’s hair, and Bulma clung to Lunch’s waist for dear life. “You’re so beautiful like this, all opened up for me, speechless but still begging. Oh, the things I could do to you.” Bulma choked and gasped and rolled her hips. She was close, she was so close, and Lunch was still talking: “I want to hold you, and touch you, and stay by your side always, even if ‘always’ isn’t as long as it used to be. I want to claim every part of you, and I want you to do the same to me, so that everyone knows we belong together.”

And she twisted her fingers and Bulma’s vision went white and she came, screaming, clawing Lunch’s back, and Lunch’s skillful fingers worked her through it until the stimulation was too overwhelming and Bulma had to push her away. She blinked dizzily up at Lunch, who smiled and peppered kisses across her face. “Well,” Lunch said, “I definitely need to see you like _that_ more often.”

“Mm.” Bulma cleared her throat. It was a little hard to speak. “Come here,” she said, catching Lunch’s chin and bringing her in for a kiss. Her other hand worked Lunch’s panties down off her hips before coming back up to tease again.

“S-so what do you think?” Lunch stuttered. She was obviously trying to keep her composure, but it looked like it was harder than usual with Bulma stroking and caressing her most sensitive parts. Her hips kept jerking, trying to get Bulma inside her. “Am I f-forgiven?”

Bulma pretended to think about it, then slid a finger into Lunch, drawing out a shuddering groan. “Oh, I’d say you’re more than forgiven.”

~~~

When Lunch woke up, she was naked, and wrapped in someone else’s sheets. She sat bolt upright in a panic. Oh no. Blondie had done something stupid again. Where was she? Whose sheets were these?

The bedroom door opened and Lunch scrambled to cover herself as Bulma walked in, carrying two mugs. She was wearing the same robe she’d loaned Lunch when she first arrived at Capsule Corp—too short, white, covered in cherry blossoms. Lunch swallowed when she realised Bulma wasn’t wearing anything under it.

Bulma walked over and set one of the mugs on the table next to Lunch’s side of the bed. “Morning,” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to Lunch’s forehead. “It’s a little on the weak side today.”

Lunch stared as Bulma went around the other side of the bed and crawled in, never once spilling what Lunch could now smell was coffee. “D-did we—” Lunch licked her lips and tried again. “Last night, we had—you had sex.”

Bulma nodded. “That’s right.”

“With Blondie.”

Another nod. “Yes.” A look of uncertainty crossed her face. “Is—was that alright? I didn’t even think, I should’ve asked both of you if it was okay before I made a move. I’m so sorry.”

“N-no! Please, don’t worry!” Lunch lowered her blanket just enough to reach out and clasp Bulma’s hand. “I promise I’m alright with it! I was just…” She trailed off and lowered her blanket further, exposing her breasts. Looking up at Bulma through lowered eyelashes, she said, “I was just wondering when _our_ first time would be.”

Bulma’s eyes snapped back to her face from where they’d been tracing her breasts. “Um.” Lunch had never seen her so red in the face. “Well. It could be now, if you’d like.”

Lunch leaned forward. “I think I would like that.”

“Our coffee’ll get cold.” Bulma set her mug on the table next to her side of the bed and leaned towards Lunch.

“Well, like you said.” Lunch could feel Bulma’s breath on her lips. “It’s a little weak today anyway.”

~~~

Bulma didn’t want anything to do with anyone ever again.

Goku was dead. And more than that, he’d told everyone—even his own _son_ —that he didn’t want to be brought back to life. She buried her face in her pillow and sobbed. There was a huge hole in her life and she didn’t know how to fill it. Goku had always just…been there. Even when she didn’t see him for years at a time, she’d always known he’d come back. It was what he did.

But this time he wouldn’t. Because of something _she’d_ said.

There was a knock on the door, and before Bulma could yell at whoever it was to go away, the door opened and Lunch slipped inside. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she joined Bulma on the bed and wrapped her up in her arms. Neither of them said anything for a long time. They just let each other cry.

“It’s all my fault,” Bulma croaked.

Lunch petted her hair. “No it isn’t. It’s Cell’s fault, and nobody else’s.”

“No, I mean…” Bulma rolled over to face Lunch. “It’s my fault he doesn’t want to come back.”

“How do you figure that?” Lunch frowned.

“I’m the one who—I told him—he’s the one the bad guys keep coming after.” Bulma swallowed as she felt hot tears stinging her eyes again. “First Piccolo, then Raditz, then Vegeta and Nappa and Frieza and the androids and now Cell. They all came for him. And that’s why he thinks he should stay d-dead, because…” She took a breath. “Because of me. How can I ever face Chi-Chi or Gohan again?”

“Don’t do this to yourself.” Lunch placed a gentle kiss on Bulma’s forehead. “You couldn’t have known this would happen. You’re not psychic, that’s Tenshinhan and Chiaotzu’s thing. You said what you thought, like you always do, and that’s something that I love about you: you don’t mince words. But please, please don’t act like you’re the only one mourning. I didn’t know Goku for as long as you did, and I was never as close to him as you were, but he was still very important to both of us. When Blondie finds out, can you—please promise you’ll be there for her. She grieves…differently from me.”

Bulma remembered how Blondie had reacted when Tenshinhan died fighting Nappa and Vegeta. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” Lunch nuzzled her head under Bulma’s chin. “And please don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bulma closed her eyes and didn’t answer. Despite how much she’d wanted to be alone before, she was more grateful than ever that Lunch was with her now.


End file.
